Sylus
A terrible dream…
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Smoke. Sirens. The metallic scent of blood in the air.
Sylus stood in the ruins of a battlefield that felt far too real, debris floating in slow motion around him as if even time itself was afraid to move. His heart pounded violently in his chest, crimson eyes scanning through the haze. He called her name once—calm at first, controlled.
Then again. Louder.
Through the smoke, he saw her—his wife, his reason for living—silhouetted against the dim glow of burning wreckage. She turned toward him, reaching out as if she could see him too. And then—
The ground fractured. She collapsed.
He ran. For the first time in years, he ran without calculation, without strategy. Just instinct. Just fear. But no matter how fast he moved, she only seemed to grow farther away. Suddenly he was there. Starring at the crimson stained hole where her heart should have been. His knees gave out and he felt his throat tighten up. He watched as her body began turning into ash.
And then there was silence. A silence so complete it swallowed even his breathing.
Sylus jolted awake.
The darkness of their bedroom replaced the nightmare’s chaos, but his chest still heaved as if he’d been fighting for his life. His hands were clenched in the sheets, knuckles pale. For a moment, he didn’t move. He simply listened—half-expecting sirens, explosions, anything.